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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/22380157">Scarred Skin and Soundless Sobbing</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account'>orphan_account</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Homestuck</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Albino Dave Strider, Angst, Dirk Strider and Dave's Bro Aren't the Same Person, Dysphoria, Feels, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Gender Dysphoria, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Meteor, Meteorstuck, Sad times, Sadstuck, Self-Hatred, Trans Dave Strider</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-01-23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-01-23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-04-28 15:55:07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,569</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/22380157</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Small fic bout trans dave, tw derogatory terms</p><p>Your name is David Elizabeth Strider, at least thats who you want to be. You've known you were'nt actually a girl but you've been too afraid to look into it, you dont know what you are exactly and its gonna take a long time to get used to.</p><p> </p><p>(Just trans dave angst)</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Dave Strider/Karkat Vantas</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>26</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. prologue thingy</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Your name is David Elizabeth Strider, or at least that’s what you want to be called. The Elizabeth Strider part is right, though. You live in Texas with your brother, in your free time you like to make music and remixes, play bad video games and talk to your 3 friends, John, Jade and Rose. Life’s great.</p><p>Except it’s not, your Bro is abusive and doesn’t give a shit about you and you’re madly in love with your friend John. You aren’t really in a good place at the moment, you’re also feeling feelings that you really don’t want to feel. Growing up in Texas has taught you a thing or two, so when you found out you were Bi you freaked out. You already hated yourself as it is and when you found out that you were a faggot too? That was taking the piss. When you bottled down these feelings and began to harm yourself you the found out that you weren’t cis either. Like i said, you aren’t in the greatest place at the moment.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Dave being angry because dysphoria and cutting his hair and uh..some other stuff..(sorry it’s short)</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Dave. The name felt foreign on your tongue, forgotten yet familiar. you gripped the side of the sink until your knuckles went red, maintaining eye contact with yourself in the mirror. Dave. you repeated, a harsh tone coming through as you snarled the name, disgust and bitterness filling your mind as one of your hands moved to the razor at the side of the sink, holding it right in the palm of your hand and forcing yourself to avert your gaze from your face to your arm, Dave, you repeated a final time with anger and frustration, moving the blade to your arm and feeling it sink into your skin, ripping clean lines against the paleness of it. Your eyes began to sting and you bite down on your lip to stop you from sobbing, Striders don’t cry, you told yourself for the seventh time today. </p><p> </p><p>A section of your arm is covered in neat, almost perfect lines of red dripping down your arm and hitting the sink with a rhythmic tap. Bro wasn’t home, he was doing a gig somewhere and thank god for that, the last time he walked in on you cutting you got a hell of a beating, worse than the usual ones. you bit back a sob and felt a shiver down your spine followed by a series of twitches and tics. Your arm began to burn and sting, you writhe in pain and punch the wall in frustration, through teary eyes you look up at yourself in the mirror, a pathetic reflection shone back at you, you felt anger take control, raising your already bloody fist at the mirror and driving it directly into the middle, it shattered with a satisfying clash, shards flying everywhere as in the heat of the moment, you grab one, raising it up to your hair and cutting a chunk of it off, the almost white locks falling into the bloody and glass filled sink, you did this until you let go of the bloody shard because you pressed too hard and it had pierced your skin, you were too mad and upset to even realise what you had done, you punched the wall again, and again and again until you had calmed down and were satisfied. With tears streaming down your face you glanced over at the few shards attached to the mirror, or what was left of it, and didn’t recognise the person you saw looking back at you. Your first thought wasn’t the blood around your mouth from where you bit too hard, or your soon to be scarred arm but your hair, messy and unkept and unbelievably short. Your breathing slowed and you moved closer toward the remains of the mirror, reality hit you like a brick as you stumbled back, oh fuck, you thought. Oh fuck.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>sorry the others have been short i’m trying lol</p>
<p>this is just about bros relationship with dave, there will be a lot of language and sensitive themes here such as language, derogatory terms, slurs and abuse</p>
<p>stay safe homies ily</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Your name is Dave Strider and you just fucked up real bad.</p>
<p>You just finished clearing up the mirror, blood and hair left from your melt down. Ashamed and scared of what’s to come you began to think up a good excuse, knowing it wouldn’t work anyways but fooling yourself into thinking it would. Your hands tremble as you toss all the remains into the trash of the apartment,<br/>your hands scarred and bleeding from the grip of the glads and dropping blood onto the floor. The apartment was fairly small, with a few rooms. The entire place was a mess with clothes and records scattered here and there, leftover takeaway and pizza boxes by the sink and a fridge full of katanas, it was always like this, you thought. Once the mess had been cleared and thrown out you sat in silence as you began to bandage up your arms, hands and removing the ones you previously had from a strife with Bro. Once you were done, you looked down at the bandages. Sick of seeing them all the time, sick of seeing all the bloody arms and reminders of himself, you bite down on your lip and sigh through your nose, adjusting your shades and wiping some newly forming tears from your ruby coloured eyes. You pull out your phone and look at yourself through the camera of the cracked phone screen, your newly cut hair gazing back at you as you begin to brace yourself for Bro, you can only imagine how he will take this. It’s not good. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Bro usally gets in around 11? sometimes he just doesn’t show up. Gigs can last for hours to weeks, half the time he would be sucking off the first person he saw. As you were having your breakdown you didn’t realise the time, as 11 came around you were hunched in your took at your turn tables with your heart pounding, pretending you didn’t notice the bloody arms, cut hair and wrecked bathroom and that nothing happened. Even through your headphones, you heard the recognisable click of the apartment door, creaking open and shutting with a slam, Bro was home. The smell of alcohol, cigarettes and expensive perfume reeked off him as it reached your nose, your heart pounding in your chest as you looked down at the discs. His footsteps grew louder as he approached the bathroom, it all went silent for roughly a minute until you heard your name being called with a harsh tone, one you don’t hear often but when you do you know to brace yourself. Shakily, you get up, staring down at your feet as you make your way to the bathroom to find Bro standing by the sink, a shard of glaze in his hand and his foot resting by blood splatters, though you couldn’t see it though his shades you could feel his amber eyes staring into you.<br/>“What the fuck is this” he said, his tone hushed and bitter. You flinch and feel his gaze burn into you “What the fuck did you do” he spat, grabbing your bandaged arm, you yelp as he does and try to pull it back, he shoves you and you stumble back into the sink, shrinking beneath him as he yells “You little prick, what the fuck is this” he gestures to your hair, the blood and remains of a mirror, you shudder and begin to bite down on your lip “I didnt mean to-“ you manage as he slaps you round the face, gripping you by the hem of your shirt, “Well? You gonna spit it out, Faggot?” you tense at the word, not bringing yourself to look at him and flinching beneath him, struggling to get out of his grip and holding back tears. He drops you and you land with a thud, as you’re down he grabs you and shoved you to the ground again once you try and get up, kicking you to the side of the sink and yelling slurs at you as he does, your attempts to restrain your tears fail as you feel them stream down your face, Bro doesn’t like this. He grabs your mouth and grips it in his hand, tossing your shades from your face as your eyes gaze up at him, begging him to stop, he knees your stomach and slapping you hard around the face again, he spits out slurs, cusses and throws punches toward your guy, you cry out and writhe when he does, using whatever strength you had left to beg him to stop, trying to take his hands off you.</p>
<p>You can’t remember how long it lasted, all you can remember is crying, struggling in pain and blacking out. You wake with a busted lip and your body covered head to toe in bruises, you’re bleeding in several places and your shades have been wrecked and tossed by the side of the bin. You were left by the sink and can’t muster any energy or effort to get up, at first you begin to think you’re healing when it hits you, your chest aches and a splitting pain reaches you, you cry out as you can feel more tears coming, you’ve definitely broken one or two ribs. It takes you about an hour to actually stand up, only to collapse and fall back against the sink. You murder under your breath a remark on how weak you are as you try to get up again. After a few failed attempts, you decide to rest there for a while until you can stand.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>any criticism please leave in the comments, i want to improve and see what you guys have to say!!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Dave talking about himself and his feelings and relationship with john, also some unnecessary stuff i felt like yeeting in there, enjoy</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>You aren’t exactly sure what caused you to have the breakdown, or why that name pissed you off so much, or why cutting your hair made you feel more like yourself than you ever were, you had a suspicion but refused to admit it, Bro was already on to you and you feared he might be right, his words, taunting you and repeating themselves again and again and again, a freak, a disappointment, an accident, a faggot. You lay on the bathroom floor, groaning and lifting yourself up, you had lay there for roughly an hour and your entire body ached, you stagger to your feet and grip the edge of the sink for support, heaving yourself up with a jagged breath. Tears stained your face and you longed for your shades, you already knew you were weak as shit but still didn’t want to show it. Stumbling over once or twice, you went to grab your shades. Now shattered from Bro throwing them, you sighed in anger and frustration, tossing them to the floor again. After the beating bro had left, to go drinking no doubt, and you were all alone and bleeding out, which wasn’t the first time you were left like this. Heading over to your room you throw off your bloodied shirt and toss it to the floor, it fell upon a pile of dirty washing neither brother had wanted to clear up. You slump onto your bed, catching a glimpse of yourself into the mirror. Your hair was all dirty, messy and uneven, your cheeks were marked with tear stains and your eyes had reddened from all the sobbing, your lips were busted and your nose was dripping with blood. Your arms, cut and bloodied with bruises, purple, yellow and almost green looking bruises scattered across your body from head to toe. You almost choke, you look unrecognizable and you were certain all that kicking had broken at least a rib. You glance down at your chest and make a shaky breath. you had heard about binding and were very scared to try it, you still didn’t feel confident with your gender but something deep inside you tugs again. You have been bandage binding for about 3 days, your chest aches with indescribable pain that you squint when you touch it, letting a long sigh slip through your lips you get up, still holding onto things for support.</p><p>About an hour later when you were all bandaged up, you fished in your draw for a new shirt and some new shades. You had cleared up the blood and glass from the bathroom an got yourself an apple juice carton, it was lukewarm because the fridge was filled with a bunch of fucking katanas, but you didn’t mind. Apple juice was apple juice and apple juice was good. You put on some headphones and stood over your turn tables, Bros words still ringing in your mind as you try to distract yourself with the music, putting the volume on full blast and playing some tunes. You know that the way you get treated isn’t fair, you wake up in fear and can’t even walk out the door without feeling watched or held hostage, but what can some kid do about it? Lost in your music, you didn’t notice john pestering you on your computer. Eventually, through the corner of your eyes, you spot some of his messages, abandoning your turn tables almost as quick as you got to them.</p><p>You weren’t sure how long you had been crushing on John, it had been for a while though. You’ve known him for about 7 years? maybe longer. you can’t really remember, his Evenly cut Hair and ocean blue eyes, goddamn those eyes.. they were every shade known to mankind and more, you were usually staring at them through your shades, yet another reason you always had them on. His buck teeth that stood out made him look so cute, and good harassment material. You were head over heels for the kid, only thing is, if he found out that you were a fag, he would most likely freak out and leave you. Or at least that’s what you’ve convinced yourself would happen. Everything about John made you smile, from his bubbly attitude to the shitty movie taste. A smile shone on your face as you though about him and headed over to your laptop and opening the app with ease.</p><p> </p><p>-- ectoBiologist [EB] began pestering turntechGodhead [TG] at 4:20pm --<br/>EB: Liz you’re finally online!!<br/>EB: How many times do i have to pester you until you come on<br/>TG: John am i allowed to be alone for like a minute or are you just that into me?<br/>EB: !!!<br/>EB: No it’s not like that i just wanted to ask what you were up to because i have like nothing better to do <br/>EB: :B<br/>TG: that face is dumb<br/>TG: i’m making tunes, what are you doing Egderp<br/>EB: Nothing really!! Dad is trying to make me bake a cake again<br/>TG: that’s deep<br/>TG: hope you survive <br/>EB: I might not!! <br/>TG: why not<br/>EB: Its Betty Crocker Liz!!<br/>EB: Bleh!<br/>TG: and<br/>EB: What do you mean ‘and’<br/>EB: It’s like ass in a cake<br/>EB: Its asscake!!<br/>TG: i’m calling asscake my new track name<br/>EB: Liz this is no laughing matter this is life or death for me<br/>TG: that’s deep<br/>EB: I knowwww<br/>EB: Shit dads calling me, there’s no way i’m getting out of this, gonna try and abscond though!!<br/>EB: Wish me luck!<br/>TG: aight good luck<br/>-- ectoBiologist [EB] ceased pestering turntechGodhead [TG] at 4:28pm --</p><p>You sigh and rest your head back on your chair, letting out a sigh. You wanted to tell him how you felt, you wanted to be with him so badly, you wanted to be you.</p><p>That’s all you want.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This is my headcannon please dont send hate,<br/>Hope you enjoy whatever this is</p></blockquote></div></div>
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